


We're Just Friends

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:11:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: prompt request: root and shaw aren't together according to Shaw. they just occasionally have sex, sometime spend the night together with no sex, most of root's things are at Shaw's, they watch tv together and even share meals. but whatever finch, fusco or Reese says, Shaw says her and root aren't in a relationship. one day after finishing a job, walking along the streets, her and root have a run in with One of root's ex's and asks if Shaw's root's gf and root says no. Shaw gets jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Just Friends

There is a heavy breathing in Shaw’s ear that nearly drowns out the voices wafting from the television. Dark hair falls over her eyes, making a translucent curtain that tangles with the TV light and catches fire. She can feel her chest tight with the weight resting on it, but doesn’t dare move; not wanting it to leave. Not wanting  _her_  to leave.

_‘What are you doing?’ Shaw’d asked as they were sitting on the couch. A crime show was playing out across the screen, bullets doing damage she knew would never have panned out so excellently. She had a Chinese food container in one hand and a fork in the other, and she ate hungrily. But Root had stopped her, fork midway to her mouth, by leaning her head on Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw gave Root a quick glance from the corner of her eye, then put her meal down._

_“I’m_ tired _,” Root sighed out with an air of sleepiness, scooting her head higher onto Shaw’s shoulder._

 _“Well_ that’s _too bad,” Shaw replied simply, eyes still focused on the screen. She felt a smirk creeping onto her lips against her restrains, and it only broke loose further as Root lifted her head. She rested her chin on Shaw’s shoulder, eyes narrowed playfully and lips pursed as she glared at the side of Shaw’s head._

_Shaw was waiting for her to say something back, a snap or quip or innuendo- she was braced for it all. But nothing came. Feeling the eyes still on her, Shaw turned her head to the side, face serious, looking Root dead in the eye. She watched as Root’s eyes lit up, widening for a half second; mouth pulling from its purse to a half smile._

_And before Shaw knew it, that smile was gone. There were lips on her lips and hands on her shoulders- something she_ hadn’t _prepared for. But the fact that her eyes widened in shock didn’t matter because no one saw it, and it was no more than a second. After the initial surprise, Shaw could feel the fire flooding into her veins, skin searing in the places Root’s fingers touched. Shaw could feel the jump in her heart as it picked up pace, entire body like a live wire. She wrapped her arms around Root’s waist, pulling her in closer before laying down._

* * *

 

_The whole situation was like flying and falling. The initial moment where there was weightlessness, just the two of them and this. But then gravity remembered its purpose, and pushed on Root’s back- tugged on Shaw’s shirt- sending them on a plummet down until Shaw’s back sunk into the couch. Shaw could read Root’s momentary fright and exhilaration by the gasp on her lips, and Shaw couldn’t help the small laugh that greeted them._

Shaw stretches her fingers out, uncoiling them from Root’s grasp on the coffee table, wiggling the pins and needles from them, and then laying them back down. Shaw could feel her legs beginning to fall asleep as well, but knew the odds of shaking them out were near impossible. Her and Root’s legs are knotted together, where Shaw’s jeans end and Root’s night sweatpants start is unintelligible. Shaw’s right hand still encases Root’s waist, fingers tracing out light patterns on her shirt.

_True to her word, Root was tired, and not long after laying, Root couldn’t hold back a yawn. Shaw watched Root’s face as Root’s cheeks turned a shade of pink after, and wasn’t sure if she’d smiled at her, or if it was just her eyes. Shaw found it- well- she wouldn’t even admit how she found it, not even to herself. But, no matter what she thought, Shaw brought her hand to Root’s hair, pushing it back behind her ear to get a better look. The pink turned to sun burn red, and Root quickly turned her face towards the television screen, resting the top of her head just under Shaw’s chin. She didn’t want Shaw to see her._

Not this- this vulnerable,  _Root decided at last, body at war between too much adrenaline but not enough energy. Her heart hammered to stay awake, but her eyelids began to glide to a close._ This,  _Root thought, feeling her head become heavy as sleep pulled it under,_ is how it feels to be vulnerable.

Root shifts her head, pressing her chilly nose into the side of Shaw’s neck, too overcome with sleep to ever know. But Shaw is wide awake, and no amount of water could put out the forest fire surging within her.

The sounds of the television escape her entirely, leaving nothing but the sound of Root’s breath so close to her ear and her thoughts. She thinks of what’s going on; what’s been going on for quite some time. She tries to take in a deep, calming breath, but finds it impossible.  _But it isn’t Root that’s restricting my breath,_  she realizes with sudden clarity. _It’s the weight of the world._ And, as it pushes down hard on her, she wonders if Root can feel it too.

A lot of nights were spent like this-  _well, not_  just  _like this_ \- but close enough. Nights eating together; nights falling asleep together; and, sometimes, nights that held a little more. It never seemed like something to make a huge fuss about before; Shaw always had a way of keeping things she didn’t want to think about pressed all the way down and out of sight. But something clicks.

Whether it be Root’s near death-grip on Shaw’s hand, or just laying here like this, there is a latch in Shaw’s mind that breaks, sending everything she’s been suppressing straight to her attention.

 _We aren’t together,_ that much Shaw knew. And she never ceased to point that out, especially to Root.  _That outside of this night business, there was nothing._  The day is their time to be free, to be brave and bold and strong. The day was made for Shaw, all the things she’d ever been and wanted to be. But all of a sudden, she was coming to prefer the night. Yet, the night brought new fear that was never there before.

 _Commitment._  Something Shaw never manned for herself. It was always a subtle plane on autopilot. She knew she was free to go wherever- do whatever- and no one, not John or Harold or Root, would tell her she couldn’t. But it was loyalty, not commitment, that kept her to this place. And it was friendship, not commitment, that kept her to these people.  _But this?_ This was growing too close to commitment, and it eats at Shaw constantly. She thinks of all the people she’d ever known, how all of those who committed to something changed. Who they were, what they stood for, everything distorted like disturbed water for that one commitment.

Shaw looks to Root, seeing nothing more than a mop of brown waves covering her face. She studies the sight, then lets her gaze slip back to their hands.  _I don’t want her to change,_ she thinks.  _I don’t want to change either._

She gives Root’s hand an involuntary squeeze as she pushes the migraine inducing thoughts from her mind. With a sigh, she forces her eyes closed, commanding her nerves to unwind.  _We’re just… friends,_ Shaw tells herself, as she’d been telling herself more and more frequently for the past two months.  _Because that’s the easiest thing._

_____\ If You’re Number’s Up /_______

“Are you and the other half taking care of a number today?” Lionel’s voice hits Shaw’s ears from behind, and she turns back towards the subway entrance, seeing him leaning against the railing on the opposite side. He has on a light blazer, matching dress pants, and a robust grin. Shaw, pressing her lips together tightly, rolls her eyes.

“ _Bear_  isn’t coming,” Shaw tells him flatly. “But Root is.” The detective gives a small snicker, standing up straight and placing his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, because  _Bear_  was who I was referencing,” Fusco retorts sarcastically, and Shaw can feel her jaw set.

“There is nothing going on,” Shaw spits, and his eyes light devilishly.

“Never said there was,” he replies, teeth gleaming in a victorious grin. “But now that you’ve  _mentioned_  it, I’ve been meaning to ask you how things have been with Banana Nut Crunch.”

“I’m assuming the same as they are with  _you_ ,” Shaw replies cooly, trying to keep the anger and fluster from surfacing in her voice. However, Fusco’s hearty laugh makes it hard.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say things are  _that_  chipper between us,” he teases, and Shaw can feel her ears growing red. She sucks in a deep breath between flared nostrils, forcing the daggers in her eyes to keep at bay.

“We’re. Just.  _Friends_.” Shaw tells him stiffly.

“You just keep telling yourself that, Shaw,” John chimes in as he exits the station, icy blue eyes on her with a glint of playfulness. Shaw taps her foot against the sidewalk, the feeling of being boxed in making her agitated.

“Where’s Root?” She asks heatedly, question mostly to herself.

“You’re girlfriend?” John asks calmly, ignoring the inferno that ignites in Shaw’s eyes at the term. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

“She’s not my  _girlfriend_.” The word is thick on her tongue, not wanting to come out, at least not in that context.  _We’re friends, we’re friends, we’re-_

“So you’re saying she’s  _single_?” Lionel asks, a pique in his interest, and Shaw instantly becomes defensive.

“She’s a little out of your  _league_ , don’t you think, Lionel?” She asks icily, and Fusco narrows his eyes.

“What, and  _you_  fit the quota?” He asks, egging her on. Shaw merely gives an amused puff of air, shaking her head lightly with humored eyes.

“I can play ball,” she says.

“Sorry kids, but we don’t have time to play,” Root says, walking out from behind John. She looks over to Shaw, eyes catching as she looks Shaw over. Shaw gives her a dangerous look, eyes demanding she not do anything rash.  _God forbid she winks at me_ , Shaw fumes with a mixture of anger and dread.

Luckily, Root seems to get the memo, looking away without another acknowledgement, placing her hands in her pockets. “We have a computer repairman’s life to save,” Root continues, looking between John and Fusco. “You ready?” She asks, voice shifting as she directs it towards Shaw, and Shaw nods, stepping past the two men with frigid hostility, the air dropping twenty degrees all around her. As the two women head down the mostly empty sidewalk, Shaw is acutely aware of Root growing closer and closer, all the way up to if Shaw doesn’t focus on keeping her path exactly straight, their hips will be brushing. She can feel the static electricity zapping between them from the short distance, and her whole body feels charged.

“Have fun.” The slight breeze carries John’s words out to Root and Shaw’s ears.

“But not  _too_  much fun!” Fusco adds smartly, giving a satisfied snicker, all the while Shaw can feel her hands clenching into tight fists.

_____\ We’ll Find You /_____

“If anyone asks, which they shouldn’t, rivaling gangs broke into a fight. Okay?” Root’s voice is airy and light, smile radiant and eyes open with sympathy as she stands before a scrawny man in his late fifties, thick glasses trembling on his oversized nose as he looks over his store with saucers for eyes. Littered across the ground like trash on a windy day are muscular men in an assortment of muscle T’s and jean vests, hands clutching their knees and teeth grinding in agony. Shaw does one last sweep of the premises before stowing her gun back into her waistline. The man, tan skin ashen, nods vigorously.

From somewhere not too far off, a siren wails, signaling their time to head out. Picking past a few of the men, Shaw and Root leave the electronics store, walking the opposite way of the red and blue lights, keeping a nonchalant pace as to not attract any attention. They make it across the street, sliding past a large crowd forming on the corner, frightened whispers mingled with excited murmurs, and they blend into the crowd of business men and women on their way home from work. For the first time, Shaw realizes how late it must be. Looking to the sky, she sees the sun lowering, casting a dark blue twinge to the edges of the clouds. _It’s almost night_ , her mind nearly chants, and she swats the thought peskily from her mind.

“Hey! Hey, Groves!” A voice shouts from behind them, and Shaw turns on her heel so sharply a man with a suitcase smacks into her, grumbling as he stumbles off in another direction. However, it is nothing more than water on Shaw’s skin as her eyes scan the crowd for the source of those words; that warm but assertive voice. Out of the corner of her eye, Shaw catches a flash of brown hair, and sees Root weaving back through the wave of people a moment later. Shaw follows her, eyes daring someone to get in her way as she plows a path through, coming to a stop as she sees Root chattering away with a rather stunning woman.

Taller than Shaw but shorter than Root, this woman has sandy brown hair cut short to her head, hazel eyes large and gleaming. Freckles dot across the bridge of her nose, and a blinding smile stretches from ear to ear on her face as she faces Root, soaking in each word she says.

Shaw approaches slower now, steps silent and calculated, wanting to get as close as possible without anyone being aware of her presence.

“How have you been?” The woman asks Root, Texas drawl sharp on her words.

“I’ve been good, real good,” Root says with a joy in her voice that makes Shaw’s blood grow hot.  _Who is this- this person anyway,_ she seethes, looking her over once more with a scrutinizing eye. “How about with you?”

“Oh, things have been great!” She gushes, eyes twinkling and smile widening-  _if that’s even possible._ The woman’s eyes flicker over to Shaw, losing some of their wonder as she catches Shaw’s stern eyes and cold expression. She cocks her head to the side in thought. “We’re being completely rude, aren’t we?” She asks in a more timid voice, talking to Shaw as if she’s a scared kitten hiding in the back of the closet. Root turns her head, and- upon seeing Shaw- an affectionate relief floods her eyes, bringing a subtle smile to her lips. Shaw’s eyes give a slight widening to show her acknowledgement of the two, yet her expression doesn’t change.

“I’m Sarah,” the woman says, sticking out a freshly manicured hand, and- after a moment of reluctance- Shaw gives it a quick shake.

“Shaw.”

“This your girlfriend?” Sarah asks, a her voice two parts anticipation and three parts wistfulness as she pulls her eyes back to Root. Shaw straightens up, ready to answer.

“Y-”

“No,” Root replies simply, looking back at Sarah. “We’re just friends.”

 _We’re just friends._ The sentence had never felt so repulsive- so wrong- to Shaw before. For all the times she’d said it, it never felt like this. However, it was candy to Sarah’s sweet tooth, and she pounced on the answer gleefully.

“Ah, still single then, are ya?” She asks, trying to sound casual but not entirely succeeding. Shaw can feel her nails digging into the heels of her hands, eyes growing livid. “Cause I just moved up here not too long ago. I could sure use a buddy to help me get to know the place.”

The pure, concentrated desperation in Sarah’s comment is enough to make Shaw gag. A certain kind of rage creates a veil over Shaw’s eyes, and suddenly all her worries of before seem futile.  _Commitment, really?_  She nags at herself heatedly.  _You, afraid?_  She laughs at herself bitterly for showing such a weakness.  _To Hell with fear._

 _But what about change?_ The other half of her mind counters.

 _So what,_  she thinks, head spinning.  _I’m stubborn, since when have I changed for anything?_

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Root says, fumbling through an answer, brow pulling in the tight situation. “I’m sure I could show you arou-”

“Maybe another time?” Shaw cuts in, eyes like warning signs directed to Sarah. “We really gotta go.”

“Go where?” Root asks, playing out her confusion to her advantage. Her eyes are filled with humor, the entire thing turning into a game for her. “We just finished work, what else is there to do?”

“You two work together?” Sarah asks, faking interest to mask the overall relief in her eyes. Shaw can see a plan forming in them, watches her as she gets ready to close in, and finds herself with two options:

1) Shoot her.  _A knee cap or shin wouldn’t be too hard to play off, right?_

2) Lie.  _Lie like it’s your only ticket out of Hell._

“Yeah,” Shaw says, forcing on her most sincere countenance. “But we also have a cat. Harold. He’s old, easily annoyed, and will  _not_  be happy if we don’t get back to feed him. Plus, you know,  _dinner_.” There is an emphasis on her last word directed at Root, who easily allows her little game to draw to a close. She gives an ‘oh-darn’ nod Sarah’s way, then a formal smile.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Root tells her, already turning to walk away.

“Yeah…” Sarah replies absent-mindedly, eyes fixed on Shaw, undoubtedly trying to figure out how two people not together could share a single cat. Shaw gives her a smug wave goodbye, fingers wiggling; yet, the second her back is fully away from Sarah, she lets out an annoyed eye roll.

“Who was  _that_?” Shaw asks, snarky attitude meant to mask her underlying curiosity and-  _yes_ \- her jealousy. “Ex- stalker?”

“Ex-girlfriend.” If Shaw had a glass of water, she’d have executed the perfect spit take. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a hard cough. Shaw is silent a moment.

“Your cat?  _Really_ , Ms. Shaw, that is  _all_  you could come up with?” Harold’s annoyed voice greets her ear through the earwig, and Shaw shakes her head with a sigh.

“It worked, didn’t it?” She spits back, and he shifts unhappily in his chair.

“I’m not  _old_ ,” he hisses.

“Oh, don’t  _worry_ , Harry,” Root says, smile on her face. “You’d make the best pet.” Shaw can hear him give an exasperated groan, and the line goes dead. For a small time they walk in silence; Shaw irritated and thoughtful, Root full of bounce and good spirits. She’s practically humming with undefined excitement, and finally, she bursts.

“So what got into you back there?” Root asks, voice bubbling into an almost purr. Shaw keeps her guard up.

“Nothing, she just seemed a little shady to me.”

“Uh- _huh_ …” Root says, obviously seeing through Shaw’s transparent defense. “So, naturally, you had to tell her we share a cat and an apartment.”

“I didn’t say  _anything_  about an apartment,” Shaw spits.

“It was implied,” Root responds.

“Nothing’s  _implied_.”

“You’re just not good at sharing,” Root tells her playfully. “Afraid to lose me?” She radiates smugness, and Shaw can’t help the defensive flare that takes hold of her, fluster reddening her ears.

“Oh,  _please_ ,” she mutters, and Root raises an eyebrow.

“Better catch me before I’m gone,” Root teases, slipping through the crowd. Shaw catches people looking their way, watching them with quizzical eyes as they pass. Forcing her eyes away from the onlookers, Shaw grabs Root at the upper arm, and Root allows herself to be stopped, large grin on her face she is unable to mask.

“Let’s just… talk about this later,” Shaw says with an air of exasperation, but the words only give Root more speed.

“At  _dinner_ , right?” She coos, eyes aglow. “What are we having anyway?”

“I don’t  _care_ ,” Shaw huffs, hardening her shoulders and making her pace brisk.  _She’s such a freaking weasel_ , Shaw fumes to herself, feeling the steam billow from her ears.  _Sliding in and out and twisting everything all over_.

Shaw feels a hand wrap into hers, fingers curling in tight and high-heeled steps falling into sync with hers. Not wanting to be caught, Shaw lets her eyes wander to her left in small bursts. She sees Root’s shoes in one glance; Root’s hand in another. And, lastly, she sees Root’s face. She looks to be in another world entirely, a euphoria surrounding her like an impenetrable bubble- as if nothing in the world could stop this from being her favorite moment in time. Like walking down the street with Shaw, hand firmly in hers, was the purest form of any drug; it is better than any form of alcohol, and she’s drunk with it. Looking forward once more, Shaw shifts her jaw in annoyance, all the while her heart skips a beat as a tingle runs up her spine.  _She’s my weasel, at least._


End file.
